


To do what the billionaire asks

by CumberRachel



Series: Recovery is like falling, only backwards [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Movie Night, Clint Is a Good Bro, Fluff, Its such a shit series tho, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, One Shot Collection, POV Steve Rogers, Protective Jarvis, Team Bonding, Thor Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Twilight References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberRachel/pseuds/CumberRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After another failed attempt at finding Bucky. Steve finds solace in being surrounded by his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To do what the billionaire asks

**Author's Note:**

> So this was going to all be one long one but I decided I had to split it. The next one will also be from Steve's POV and follows more or less directly from this one.

"Jarvis, how many times has Clint had his ass handed to him now?" Natasha asked from the side of the training area. Steve currently had a knee on Clint's chest and a forearm at his throat, panting heavily, beads of sweat tricking down his temple.

"Mr Barton has been subdued my Captain Rogers approximately 34 times now, not including the times he was on the floor. That would increase the number to 46." The AI informed them. Steve felt a little guilty, he'd broken five reinforced punching bags in the last four hours so Clint had offered to spar with him, Natasha wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to tease her partner either.

"Hey Cap? Don't sweat it, I offered, I just didn't realise how much angst you'd got pent up." Clint spoke from beneath him, a little rough and raw but that was just from exertion. Steve stood in one swift motion, pulling Clint with him. He was graceful in his own way, all the muscle and bulk controlled the way a gymnasts would be. It was an odd combination as there were times Steve could be very clumsy, bumping into door-frames, tripping up stairs, sometimes even his own feet. It was in those moments that Steve remembered who he was now, no longer weedy Steve Rogers from Brooklyn but The big and strong Captain here to save America. It was a heavy burden.

"Sorry, are you alright?" He asked, seeing a bruise begin to form on Clint's jaw where his elbow had struck.

"Yeah man, I'm good to go again." He shook himself a little, stretching his arms above his head and Steve didn't miss how he winced when his shoulder clicked. Shaking his head, Steve ducked under the elasticated barrier, reaching for his water bottle.

"No, we're done. You should put some ice on your shoulder. And tell me in future when you're hurt, I don't need special treatment." He said, a little more forcefully than he had intended. Lucky, Natasha was there to save him the embarrassment and awkward apology he had grown so used to using.

"That's just Clint, cap. He once broke his wrist and carried on fighting, the idiot doesn't know when to stop." She said fondly, earning a very childish 'blah blah blah, whatever' from Clint. He looked dead on his feet this time, worse than Steve did. It had helped to a certain extent however, the sparing had helped him get rid of the energy sparking in his muscles, exhausting him to the point where he could relax. The hunt for Bucky hadn't been successful so far.

 

* * *

 

 

_"Stark? Your tracking technology is shit." Natasha said over the comm's unit, watching in concern as a stack of wooden crates were receiving the special Captain America treatment. Steve and Natasha had paired up, mainly because Steve wasn't allowed to be on his own incase he locked himself away again. C_ _lint and Sam were on the other side of the city, tracking one of four suspected sightings._

_"You're not wrong Nat." Clint piped up, "we've got nothing this end." Sam finished. Unfortunately for the team, Hawkeye and The Falcon had overcome their differences in breed and bonded over mutual appreciation for the others skill set. This meant they joked around with each other and Clint's tendencies to be a little shit had rubbed off on Sam. It was like having two petulant children in the tower at times._

_Natasha watched the tension drain from Steve like someone pulled the plug on his emotions. All at once Steve went from being a raging flame of pain and frustration to a man run raged, eyes hollow as the alley. Shoulders slumped forward, hands tucked into damp pockets to hide the smears of blood protruding from his shredded knuckles._

_"Can we go home?" He asked pathetically, his voice cracking from the frequent haunted screams of his sleep. Natasha nodded slowly, watching him with caution, waiting for him to walk ahead before she followed, a car pulling up at the end of the ally._

* * *

 

"Where is it? Where is it? _Where is it!?"_ Steve muttered, frantically lifting papers and cushions and random wrenches that Tony seemed to leave laying around. After sparring the trio went for a short swim in the hopes of loosening Clint's shoulder. Then they cleaned up and met in the communal kitchen, Sam and Thor preparing snacks for the movies they were going to watch; Sam, who had a twelve year old niece, decided the team needed to be put through the same tortures he suffered, in the form of the 'Twilight saga'. Steve had read the synopsis and figured he would get away with sketching for the 7 or so hours that he and the team would be suffering for. Only he couldn't find it.

"Where's what Steve?" Sam asked, an appropriate mix of concern and confusion.

"My sketchbook, I can't find it! I had it yesterday! I put it on the table and it's not here!" He said, hands skimming over the cluttered contents of the table, lifting more boxes and books, still not finding his most private possession, it was almost like a diary, there were sketches of people in there he didn't want others finding out about.

"Steven, searching in this state will not help you find it any quicker. Please take a breath and describe it to us so we may help you." Thor said, his deep baritone stilling Steve's movements. Compelling him to do as he was told. Slowly, he straightened and turned to the others, taking a deep breath and holding it.

"Dude, how do you do that?" He heard Sam question in awe. Not many people could calm the captain like this, however Thor's gentle waves of wisdom never failed to get a positive reaction from Steve. Thor simply shrugged, a slight upward turn of his lips the only indication of his smugness.

Steve began to motion with his hands, giving a general A4 size. "It's about this big, leather binding, it's rough around the edges, rough texture, dark brown, there's some paper and maybe a few pictures hanging out. I need it back, there's sketches of my mother in there, my past." He explained, feeling himself get agitated again.

"If I may captain?" Jarvis piped up, making all but Natasha jump out of their skin. It was kinda bad really; a Demi-God, an assassin, and two soldiers were shocked by a voice they all knew was there. "I believe the book you are describing is in Mr Starks workshop." He continued, almost cautiously, as though he would be punished for talking.

All members of the small gathering looked up in confusion, a sort of universal _'Stark?'_ that wasn't an uncommon thought throughout the team. Steve was the first to recover, swallowing and clenching his hands into fists. This was a new low, even for Tony.

Luckily as leader of The Avengers, Steve was given the access code for Tony's workshop in case of emergencies. While this wasn't exactly an emergency, Steve was going to utilise the privilege he'd been granted "Stark?!" He called angrily, storming into the workshop and stumbling back when he saw Tony with his feet up, Steve's sketchbook sitting closed on his lap, fingers twirling the 2B pencil in his hand.

"I haven't peeked, don't worry." He said blatantly, looking in the reflection of one of his monitors back at Steve. "I wanted to, believe me I did. Oh and Jarvis, next time I tell you to keep something quiet I expect you to do as I ask as that's what I programmed you to do." He spat, clearly more annoyed than usual at his AI.

"My apologies sir, Captain Rogers' heart rate and breathing appeared elevated, I was simply concerned for his well being." Jarvis responded, having the decency to sound apologetic. Tony simply glared up for a minute, clearly contemplating what to do next: open it in front of Steve or give it back? Luckily for Tony, he chose the latter, that was not a wrestling match he'd want to lose.

Steve watched Tony as he span in his chair, standing and walking towards Steve, sketchbook held in front of him. It was all Steve could do not to snatch it from his grasp and hold it close.

"Why did you take it, you could'a asked." He said, quickly flicking through to check everything was there.

"I was curious, wanted to see if you were as good as the stories I heard." Tony explained, paying special attention to the pencil still in his fingers. "Could you maybe draw something for me? So I can see how much I really should have listened to dad?" He asked quietly, Steve would have thought he was joking only Tony was concentrating hard on the pencil, and his voice had been smaller than he'd ever heard it. "Okay." Steve agreed before his brain had chance to think about it and back out.

"Twilight saga tonight. The whole team has to be there." He said softly, feeling the palpable tension wash away with Tony's groan.

"Joy, I have to sit through that all over again..." He mumbled, throwing his arms up and stalking to the elevator, throwing the pencil in Steve's general direction, it looping twice in the air before falling seamlessly into Steve's waiting palm.

* * *

 

Once the team was settled, Steve leaning against the corner, Tony's cold toes tucked under his thigh, head resting against Bruce's thigh. Clint and Natasha were sharing the double with Thor, Nat's legs draped over Thor's while her body lay back against Clint's shins, Clint sitting on the arm with his knees pulled up. Sam sat on his own in the single, one leg draped over the arm and the other propped up on the table, a bowl of Doritos resting on the other arm. It was a nice image, cozy, familial. As though they really did belong together.

Steve ripped a clean sheet from his sketchbook and used a larger A3 one to lean on, it was flatter and had more room to go over the edges. He hadn't thought much about what he was going to draw for Tony, it wasn't hard to conjure up an image however. Tony was the type who admired himself, so he was more likely to admire something Steve drew, if it was of Tony.

It wasn't as if drawing Tony would be hard for Steve, he was an attractive man who was both smooth curves and sharp angles all at the same time. His jaw was defined by his van dyke, lips a deep pink than contrasted the chocolate brown of his hair. His cheeks rounder and fuller than Steve's, more rounded yet still prominent. His long eyelashes widened his eyes and occasionally gave him a childlike appearance, an innocence that he'd never imagined a Stark could pull off, certainly not one Steve could achieve.

The more Steve watched Tony the more he realised that drawing him may not have been as easy as he'd first thought. Especially with the way he was focussed on the film, it giving him an intellectual look that was so very slightly different from that of his everyday concentration; more relaxed. Unlike when he worked on his numerous projects; the times Steve had seen him work, Tony had looked tense and wound tight. The small crease between his brows often betrayed the blatant disinterest that occupied the rest of his face.

Before Steve knew it, the film was over and his pencil had not connected with the paper once. The whole hour and a half had been spent watching Tony watch Twilight. Who, by the way, was paying far too much attention to it for a man who believes it to be a crap film.

Usually by this point in their movie nights (often consisting of trilogies or series of multiple films, mostly to keep Steve occupied for long periods of time) Tony's toes would be prodding his thigh in an attempt to get his attention, sometimes he ask what he thought of the film, others he'd simply ask if he was alright. More often than not however it was to make some sarcastic comment about how 'the heroics of the main character were really half-assed in comparison to you Rogers'.

Not that Steve minded anymore, it was sort of a compliment and he had grown accustomed to his and Tony's back and forth comments. Now though, Steve and Tony were the only ones left on the plush sofa, Bruce's thigh replaced by a cushion for Tony to rest on. He vaguely remembered the team getting up and leaving, claiming a need for more 'sweet sustenance'. At least that's what Thor boomed on his way to the kitchenette.

"You actually drawn anything yet or have you been too awed by my good looks?" Tony asked, shocking Steve out of his thoughts and into the liquid chocolate pools that were Tony's eyes. His pupils bleeding into his iris, now just a thin ring surrounding an abyss of black.

"I... Er... No, to both." Steve said, shaking his head and blinking a few times to clear the fog preventing coherent thought. That would have been a whole lot easier if Tony wasn't smirking like a smug bastard because he could tell Steve was lying. "I was watching the film..." He stated lamely.

Tony chuckled, untucking his feet and resting them atop Steve's thighs. "Oh really?" He asked, a broad grin on his lips, lighting up his eyes, softening his entire face.

 _There_ , Steve though, that was the face Steve was going to draw, the one that depicted Tony's best personality trait.

"What did you think of the relationship between Bella and Charlie?" He asked, crossing is arms just below the arc reactor. Steve bit his lip, he knew Bella was the protagonist and narrator but he couldn't remember who Charlie was at all.

"I... Thought that they were quite close, and that, while they have conflicting personalities, they should still be together." Steve said, feigning knowledge of the subject. Poorly, apparently as Tony burst out laughing, having to pull his knees up in a ball as he held his stomach and gasped for air.

"Charlie is her father, that's priceless." He said between breaths, laughing even harder at Steve's pout, he knew he was wrong but it can't have been that funny. Seeing that he was genuinely offended, Tony sat up and moved next to Steve, resting his elbow against the back so he could face him.  

"Sorry spangles, but you've just boosted my ego by about 10. And the team will agree that it didn't particularly need a boost." He grinned lazily, shuffling around so his head was now resting on Steve's thigh, which was more than a little inconvenient considering he was actually going to draw during the next film.

"Better view point." He said quietly, even though it wouldn't be. Tony would be on his side watching the film so Steve would get the back of his head and his ear.

"Oh great, does this mean I get Tony's feet?" Bruce dead-panned, frowning when Tony just lifted his legs and waited before Bruce sat down before lowering them. Unwilling to lean on his legs, Bruce but a cushion over them, resting his bowl of peanut 'm'n'm's' on it. Steve blinked a few times, still not entirely sure how this had become his life.

* * *

 

Half way into the second film and Steve had the foundations of his sketch. Tony's eyes were bright despite them being the most shaded area, his hair was that kind of messy that normal people styled, Tony's just grew that way.

Another couple of hours and they had a food and toilet break. Which steve utilised. He came back to find Tony lifting the corners of his A3 pad, peaking under in search for the sketch of Tony he had hidden in there.

"Whacha doin' Tony?" He called, striding across the large floor.

"I told you he wouldn't be happy." Sam called, setting two bowls down on the coffee table, laughing at the man who'd fallen to the floor in shock.

"Steve, please can I see it?" He whined, crawling back onto the sofa with very little dignity.

Steve just laughed and shook his head, wishing he'd decided to draw the pout Tony was currently sporting. "No Tony. Not until it's done. You don't judge the winner of a race half way through." He explained, it was a crap example and he knew it but it seemed to work well enough.

"Ugh, fine!" Tony sighed, sitting up and waiting for Steve to sit back down again, laying back and using Steve as a head ready once again.

"Shouldn't be too much longer, ask again once the next films done." He suggested, managing to get a grateful smile from Tony.

* * *

 

"The KGB should have used these piece of shit films as a form of torture, playing the same goddamned scene on repeat. Sam, I hold genuine sympathy for you." Natasha said in disbelief.

"Nat, are you feeling okay?" Clint asked seriously, placing a palm over her forehead. It immediately getting slapped away. "Jarvis, make sure that's recorded so Sam can hear it again whenever he wants." He continued with a laugh, rubbing his hand affectionally over Natasha's shoulder, kissing her temple. Sam raised his beer bottle in thanks, a subtle appreciation for the sentiment.

Steve would have believed them more if he'd heard them talk more, in the space of nearly 5 hours, there had been very little communication. The only conversations happening between films or during breaks, and they were usually centred around the plot anyway. Either that or he had been too engrossed in his art to notice. Unfortunately for Steve it was probably the latter.

* * *

 

 

At last, he was finally done. Five and a half hours of sketching, shading and blending. Still a rough version but he liked it that way, he could spend the best part of a day making it look as lifelike as a pencil drawing could be but he preferred the rough look. It created a more stylised and personal design, each artist had a different stroke and this was Steve's. Anyone could get a picture and make it black and white, especially in the 21st century but not everyone could create a not so perfect sketch of their friend.

Apparently the saga really was as crap as Natasha had said as the team decided to call it quits for the night and return to their floors, never to watch the final two films. Steve couldn't say he cared as he had no idea what was going on anyway.

For Tony the films must have been plain dull, either that or he'd been working 48 hours straight again, as he was fast asleep on Steve's leg, one hand resting just above Steve's knee, his body curled up in the foetal position, light snores escaping his mouth with every other breath.

"You want me to wake him?" Bruce asked quietly, Tony would take it better from him than anyone else. Steve shook his head, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Tony's hair.

"No, I don't know when he last slept, I don't mind waiting until he wakes." He replied equally as softly, looking up to see a knowing look in Bruce's eyes. "Thanks though." He added, smiling lightly. Bruce shrugged, a small 'whatever', and made his way to the elevator where Thor and Sam had been waiting.

Steve gave a little wave, reaching to lean his sketchbook by the table so he could admire Tony in a way he'd not had the opportunity to yet.

About three hours later Steve felt Tony shift, nothing big, simply tensing his muscles before he relaxed again.

"You gonna watch me all night captain handsome?" He asked groggily, his voice thick and deep with sleep. Steve rolled his eyes, moving his hand to rest on Tony's shoulder.

"Nope, I just didn't wanna wake you. I could have done though as apparently you weren't even sleeping." He chided lightly, still grinning wide. Tony rolled so he was looking up at Steve, meaning Steve's arm slid onto Tony's chest, palm settling just below the arc reactor.

"I've only been awake around half an hour." He spoke around a yawn, rubbing his eyes in a way that gave him a childlike cuteness. "You finish my sketch yet?" He asked, sounding a little bored, but his eyes betrayed the excitement he was clearly feeling so Steve didn't comment.

"Yeah, actually. You know it's only been about 6 hours since I started." He quipped as he reached for his pad, flicking through until he found the loose sheet. This was how he liked it between him and Tony, it was casual and relaxed. It reminded Steve of his days in the Howling Commandos, the constant jokes and jibes that were so flippantly passed between them. 'Weedy Stevie' was now big and strong, now part of the group everyone wanted to be a part of, now admired by those surrounding him. "I hope you like it." Steve spoke quietly, contrasting his earlier confidence, as he handed Tony the portrait, returning his hand. He never liked showing people his art, he knew it was good but it was a part of him that he didn't want to become common knowledge. It was almost as if he was exposing a part of his soul to willingly be toyed with.

Tony's expression changed as soon as he saw himself. His smooth lips curled up at the corners, making the corners of his eyes crease. His eyes softened and his breathing sped up a little.

"Steve..." He whispered, mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out. _Wow, rendered him speechless, must be good_ , he thought. Steve absentmindedly rubbed his thumb in small circles over Tony's chest, causing him to break out of his trance.

"This is... There aren't words Steve. This is phenomenally good, I want to frame it and show it off but at the same time I want to hide it away and keep it for myself..." Tony trailed off, his words reaching Steve's heart.

While Bucky had thought Steve was a fantastic drawer, he never really appreciated any form of art, so this reaction was foreign to him. It was the good kind of foreign that made him feel all warm inside. A warm he hadn't felt in a while.

"Umm, thanks?" Steve guessed not knowing how else to react, this hadn't ever happened to him before.

"No, thank you." Tony said, sitting up and scratching his jaw. "Time for you to get some sleep though, Jarvis?" He called, turning to look at Steve with a pre-accusatory expression.

"The captain slept approximately two and a half hours last night, sir." The AI dutifully responded. Tony made a noncommittal noise and rose to his feet, holding out his hand for the soldier. "Better than 1 hour I guess. C'mon cap, looks like you're on my floor tonight." Steve took Tony's hand, allowing himself to be hauled up, expecting Tony to let go once he was but happily surprised when he didn't.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Incase you're interested in what the sketch looks like, here is a link to it: http://dafnawinchester.deviantart.com/art/Tony-Stark-343932246
> 
> (All credit to the artist, I don't own the sketch.)


End file.
